


My Two Asshole Dads

by Davechicken



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 01:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2754728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire has always wanted a family, so when Castiel brings her home... well. It's not exactly what she imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Two Asshole Dads

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElDiablito_SF](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/gifts).



It was never easy bringing people home to meet the King of Hell. Cas knew this, but it wasn't going to stop him.

"Castiel... what is _this_?" Crowley asked, squinting at the new addition to his entourage.

"Her name is Claire," Cas explained, and waved generally in her direction.

"I didn't ask what it was called, more what it was doing here?"

"Hey, Munchkin, watch it!" Claire said, her arms folded across her chest. "Really, Castiel?"

"Yes, Claire."

"You left my Mom for this? Ugh. Where's my room?"

A snap of fingers from Crowley, and an evil grin. "First door on your left. You won't miss it. It's decorated for you."

Castiel tried to warn her, he really did, but she stormed off down the hallway and then the dulcet tones of: 'God, are you for _real_?' indicated that she did not approve of Crowley's version of interior decorating.

"Crowley..." Cas started, warningly.

"What? She's a precious little girl. Of course she likes pink."

"She is a teenager, Crowley."

"So? Everyone's a toddler compared to you and me."

"That does not mean you treat people of her age like babies." The angel snapped the room back to normal. 

"Spoilsport."

Castiel chose not to react to the sudden presence of tongue poking out past lips. Crowley was certainly attempting to act the age he had envisioned Claire at. Perhaps this was going to be more difficult than he had planned?

***

Their first breakfast went just as awkwardly. Castiel insisted they have one, even though he didn't really need to eat (and didn't enjoy it that much, either), and Crowley could take or leave food... but Claire had to eat and he thought it would be a good way to 'bond'. 

What he hadn't planned on was the warfare being played out over the tablecloth. Crowley was aggressively Anglicising his territory - teapots and doilies and this strange black tar substance he called 'Marmite' - and Claire was glowering at the healthy cereal with fruits strewn atop, kicking her feet under her chair in a manner that was very distracting. 

Castiel was almost certain he'd never seen a doily before in Crowley's presence, so his excuse of 'if you want it to feel homey it has to feel homey' was as flimsy as the lacy decorations. If nothing else, he wasn't sure Crowley had even _had_ them when he'd been human.

"You need to eat your bran to keep you regular," the King of Hell was crowing. "And the fruit for the vitamins."

"I want pancakes," she said, instead. "I've had enough cereal."

"Pancakes are fattening," Castiel replied. He wasn't sure why he was so adamant about her eating well when he'd watched Dean clog his arteries over the years, but there was a difference between 'Righteous Man who runs around a lot saving the world so is unlikely to gain excess body weight' and 'adopted daughter'. "You can have them on special occasions."

"What, me being here isn't special enough?" she huffed.

"She's got you, there, Kitten," Crowley said with a sly grin.

"Why are you conspiring against me?" Cas complained, frowning at them both in turn. "You are supposed to know better," he directed squarely at his demon. But he mostly meant 'side with me, not with her'.

"Look, you wanted to be a family," Crowley replied. "In my - albeit warped - experience, it isn't a family without fighting involved. You should get used to sometimes being outnumbered, though you should likely _also_ get used to things being thrown at you."

Like a blueberry. Which hit the front of his shirt and slid down. Now Claire was siding with Crowley.

Cas closed his eyes and prayed to his Father to give him strength. Now both of them were being childish. This was more than he could cope with.

"Pancakes," she insisted again. "So I feel loved and wanted."

"Oh, emotional blackmail. I take it back, she isn't so bad after all," Crowley enthused.

This was such a terrible mistake.

***

"Claire, is that really appropriate clothing?" the seraph asked, trying not to let his frustration colour his tone.

"Oh, sorry. This coming from a guy _wearing my dad_."

Crowley was not helping, giggling into his hand. Castiel glowered at him ineffectually, until he finally calmed down enough to help with the 'tough love'. "The clothes are - well - a bit trampy for my liking, but would it kill you to look in a mirror when you apply your warpaint? Honestly, you look worse than I did in my New Romantics period. And I had the hair to match."

"Really? Coming from you?" Claire's arms were folded across her chest. "Hello, even _I_ know _colours_ exist."

Cas wondered why Crowley let her sass back so much. He'd never done more than mildly prank her, though, and now he was smirking widely again. Maybe the pair of them _enjoyed_ this verbal sparring?

"Go on, before the Uncool Dad tells you you're grounded," Crowley said, waving her off.

And Claire went with an eyeroll, but Cas noticed how she pulled down her shorts when she thought no one was looking.

***

"Crowley. Where is Claire?"

The demon looked up from his newspaper, peering over to his angel. "Hmm?"

"Claire. Where is she?"

"Oh. She took Juliet for walkies."

"She-- _Crowley_. Why did you think it was appropriate to leave Claire with a _hellhound_?"

"Oh, shush, mother duck. She can hold her own."

Castiel vibrated out a 'this is not over yet' to him, whilst he tried to work out the adequate words to convey his unease.

"Your daughter can handle herself, Cas, stop being such a prissy nanny."

"She is not my daughter, Crowley."

"She came from your loins," the demon pointed out, looking pointedly in their direction.

"They were not my--"

Demons often cheated. Like now, when one minute Crowley was sitting in his chair, reading his paper. The next he was standing well into the angel's personal space, a knee between his, hands grabbing his own and pushing them to head-height to press into the wall behind.

The end of Cas' complaint was drowned by soft, wicked lips on his. Lips that teased and pushed and did all sorts of nice things. Cas was in the middle of forgetting what the complaint even _was_ , hands on Crowley's hips, pulling him in tighter, when there was a sudden:

"Ew, gross!"

And when he looked up, he could see Claire wearing the sunglasses Crowley had made for her, holding Juliet on her leash. The giant beast apparently liked Claire, because she kept butting her head in the direction of her hand when the ear-scritching stopped. 

"Claire, I--"

"You could at least _get a room_ ," she huffed, and tugged Juliet along. "C'mon. Let's play 'fetch' with shoes. _Theirs_."

Castiel let his head fall back against the wall, and the demon cuddled up against his chest was shaking with laughter.

"Why do you find this amusing?" he asked, his cheeks pink, feeling utterly mortified.

"Because, my dear angel, it would appear that it doesn't matter who is 'in' your body, or **in** your body, it's still going to gross your daughter out."

"Does this mean we cannot...?"

"Oh, hell no! Just... we might have to be a little more careful when we canoodle," he said, walking fingers up his chest. "Let's take this to our bedroom. I can soundproof it."

"Perhaps we could send her out to... buy... things?"

Crowley only smirked, knowingly. "We're low on pancake batter. I'm sure she'd go out for that."

Great. So now he had to bribe her in order to get laid. Well, Cas thought, he'd ducked out on years of being responsible. Maybe it was time he started.

"She leaves the dog at home," Cas insisted.

"Oh, you've got to be joking. I send her with Juliet so any unsuitable suitors are... dissuaded," Crowley admitted, sheepishly. "What? I don't want to see the brat dead. You'd be a wreck for weeks."

Of course that was the only reason, Cas thought with a smile. "I will ask her if she would like to buy the items."

"Give her extra money, then she'll go to the movies, or possibly develop a drug habit which will mean less time in our hair," Crowley added.

It wasn't all that bad, really, he thought when he knocked the door and found their adoptive daughter lying against a hellhound. She was listening to music, and reading up on night classes. "Hey," she said, anger apparently gone.

"Hey," he said back, and it didn't feel awkward at all.


End file.
